


Name a hero with a happy ending

by bookaddict_99



Series: The Greeks Invented Tragedy [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Dark, Dark Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson), Dark Nico di Angelo, Dark Percy Jackson, F/M, Heroes to Villains, M/M, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - The Trials of Apollo, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson), POV Percy Jackson, Post-Tartarus (Percy Jackson), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prophecy, Prophetic Dreams, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Scars, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-27 14:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30124287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookaddict_99/pseuds/bookaddict_99
Summary: They left Tartarus and are now back at Camp Half-Blood, but then why does it feel so wrong?Percy Jackson can't let go. He finds himself split between the Percy from before and the one that survived the pit. He doesn't want to be him. He just wants to forget. He wants to go back to a time where his biggest problem was getting kicked out of school and not the mess he is today. He can feel it. The lullaby that sings inside his blood. It tempts him into a dance he knows he cannot follow, and he lets go.Annabeth is in a race against time herself. She had seen things in Tartarus. Things no demigod should have seen and yet she had. She has the pieces to a puzzle only she can solve and yet the image is fracted and blurred from view. She needs to solve it. Needs to beat it, because losing means death. There are broken images inside Annabeth's mind, and the realization that maybe she and Percy shouldn't have survived Tartarus after all.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Nico di Angelo, Annabeth Chase & Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase & Sally Jackson (Percy Jackson), Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Estelle Blofis & Percy Jackson, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson
Series: The Greeks Invented Tragedy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216955
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	1. Home doesn't feel like home anymore

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains unhealthy coping mechanisms and is dark. Triggers will be posted in the tags. If I miss a tag please let me know.

Camp Half-Blood is supposed to be his home away from home. It should be safe and comforting but instead all Percy feels is dread.

The battle is over. Camp is safe, and all Percy wants to do is sleep. He wants to close his eyes and never wake up. He doesn’t want to get up and face the others. How can he do that?

Leo is dead and despite knowing he should feel sad all Percy can feel is relief that it was him and not Annabeth. He feels like crap for thinking such thoughts but the relief that overwhelms him is stronger. 

What does this say about him?

His friends try to visit and talk to him but Percy tunes them out. They won the battle, what more do they need from him? He’s done his job and now Percy wants to rest. Doesn’t he deserve this? Hadn’t Percy earned his peace?

But maybe that’s his fear. Percy has been fighting on behalf of the gods since he was twelve, prophesied to destroy or save Olympus at sixteen, and hadn’t even enjoyed a full year before he was kidnapped by a goddess and dragged into another prophecy to save the gods again. 

He’s tired. So tired, he feels his skin slipping past his bones and fingers turning to dust. He wants it to end. The nightmares, the quests...life...but he can’t. Percy knows what comes next and so he trains until his fingers bleed from his grip on Riptide and his eye blurs from exhaustion. He keeps a sack of Ambrosia on him at all times and a backpack of supplies in his cabin ready to go. 

Nobody tells the kids how being a hero is nothing heroic after all. There is no honor or glory in killing your enemies. Whether it’s golden dust or red blood coating Riptide Percy knows this will ever end.

Demigods are born to fight and die they must, except Percy doesn’t want to fight his whole life. Instead Percy dreams of a room. He dreams of sunlit walls and quiet days. He dreams of finally being allowed to keep Riptide on his bedside table without panicking. Most of all, Percy dreams of living a life without the gods. 

He doesn’t ask for much. Just a little room carved out all to himself were monsters, gods, and other demigods can’t bother him. Where Percy can just relax and simply be…

Percy dreams of a hopeless dream he knows will never come to pass. His friends don’t understand. They don’t realize the desperation and anger inside of him is justified. They don’t understand that while the rest of them can grow and hope for a future Percy already knows his is set. 

Percy has been a demigod long enough to know how things work. He knows what’s expected of him and Percy is not naïve enough to believe he’ll ever have a peaceful life. Someday another prophecy will come and if Percy doesn’t die in that one it will be the next or next until Perseus Jackson is only a story passed down by Chiron to the new campers that will take his place.

Percy Jackson never asked to be a half-blood and yet his blood haunts him. He’s a child of one of the three major gods and he, more than anyone else, understands that he shouldn’t be alive. Fate, destiny-whatever the hell they called it- had proved it one to many times.

Poseidon had broken a promise and Percy will have to deal with the fallout. The fates will weave his life and when he least expects it cut the string. He wonders if Tartarus is a punishment he deserved. Poseidon says he cares about him but Percy wonders how much the older god can truly care. Percy is nothing but a dot in the god’s existence and he knows he isn’t the first nor last son of Poseidon to be born.

He tries broaching the subject with Jason again but the blond either plays ignorant or doesn’t truly understand. Percy knows being a child of the big three in New Rome is different than in Camp Half-Blood. Gods are kept separate from their demigod children with minor interference, but here, Percy and his friends are nothing but little chess pieces for the gods to manipulate. They are born and branded the gods’ personal play toys to entertain the immortal beings. 

Jason has decided to stay and Percy hopes maybe he’ll be able to find a friend in another demigod. Maybe Jason will help him understand this power inside him he doesn’t know how to control but when he tries to talk to him Percy wants to snap. Everything the blond does infuriates Percy to the point of almost drawing his sword. 

It takes Percy a couple of days before he understands. Jason had shed his Roman past to embrace a Greek future and every day that passes Jason becomes more and more Greek. 

Percy remembers the stories told by Chiron. His relationship with Thalia was complicated but Percy doesn't forget the few times he came to almost fighting her and Percy is afraid. There is a power inside of them. A power all children of the big three carry that Percy knows could destroy the world. His animosity with Thalia had been halted after she became a huntress but Percy now feels the beginnings stirring when he looks at the blond. 

He takes to avoiding the son of ~~Jupiter~~ Zeus, but it seems he can’t take no as an answer. Jason wants to talk about the fall and Percy snarls. He doesn’t want to talk about that. He doesn’t want to explain something the blond will never understand. He’s shocked to find that Frank does understand. Just a little, but he does. 

He and Hazel had left a few ~~weeks~~ months ago with the other Romans, with soft spoken words and promises to come back. He plays back the words Frank has left him with hoping to find an answer to his thoughts but-

“You’re angry,” Frank had said. “You’re hurt and scared and anger is the only thing that you feel justifies anything.”

“I’m not in the mood," he had spat back.

“I don’t care.” Frank’s defiance had been different. Percy was used to everyone backing off. Even Jason would retreat only to try again later, but Frank stayed. “You’re angry and it’s ok because I too was angry but Percy, what will you do when it's gone? When that anger burns out of you, what are you going to do? What will you feel?”

“I swear to the gods Frank-” He had pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply.

“I’m your friend Percy and I care about you. We all care about you and when you and Annabeth are ready to accept our help we’ll be there.”

He does his best to put on a mask. Being back at camp feels different now. Less like home and more like war. He has to be cautious of everyone now. Percy used to be the careless goofy funny hero and he has a role to play except it feels impossible. He’s angry. So angry he can feel the ocean respond to his silent commands. 

He wants others to hurt as much as he and Annabeth are hurting because it’s not fair. Percy didn’t ask for any of this. He didn’t want to be the chosen demigod of the first prophecy. He didn’t want to lose his memories and be manipulated by the gods. Percy just wants to live a life with his girlfriend and not have to worry about the next crap the gods will pull on him. 

It’s frustrating, the constant need to check his back. To make sure that not only he, but also Annabeth is safe because camp Half-Blood should be safe and yet Percy wants to attack everyone he sees.

It’s not fair when the young kids fight. He can see them practicing their sword moves and his anger burns higher because it’s not a game. No matter how much the head counselors try to disguise it as, this is life and death for these kids. If they didn’t learn how to protect themselves they would die and it sucks. What kind of god, what kind of parent, is ok with watching their kid get killed by monsters?

Twelve year-olds should be focusing on middle school and their next test, not whether the next time they stepped a foot in the streets they would be killed. It just-it...he can’t stand it and his anger only rises. 

He needs Annabeth. Needs her more than the air or any other substance his body might want. He needs her to remind him that they’re ok. To remind him that his next breath won’t be in vain. He needs her to show him that Percy won’t be just anger and disappear under the rage.

Percy needs Annabeth to show him the good parts inside himself he has forgotten are even part of him. He needs a glimpse into simpler quests and broken oreo cookies and the naivety of the soul. 

He knows he can talk to Annabeth about this because Percy might feel like at any moment he will explode but Annabeth is different. He hopes to find peace when he sees her sitting on the porch of the Big House but she’s lifeless. Percy might be brimming with anger. He might want to kill everything that stands in his way but Annabeth is just...gone. 

You don’t have to know the blonde haired girl to realize the exhaustion that covers her and Percy worries. There’s a weight settling across her form that he can’t quite lift for her. Percy held up the sky for Annabeth and he would do whatever to make sure she was alright except this time he can’t. The exhaustion is a faceless enemy, only there in spirit and not body. Percy feels helpless at the realization that this time he can’t. Annabeth is facing an enemy he doesn’t have the skills to kill and it’s not fair.

Her grey eyes are unfocused as her mind works out problems Percy doesn’t understand. He sits with her, pulling her hand towards him and drawing patterns on the back of it hoping it will draw her out. Hoping Annabeth will find her way back.

He’s not sure how long they stay there. The wind is soft against his face and the voices of other campers far away.

“Should we leave?” Annabeth finally asks.

“If you want.” He shrugs. Here, away. Percy doesn’t think it’ll make a difference.

“I don’t think I can be her again.” Annabeth's voice is uncertain and while Percy wants to comfort her the sudden doubt in her voice brings all his fears to mind. 

They’re in camp half-blood. Back to their friends. People Percy hadn't seen since he’d been kidnapped by Hera. What if he’s no longer Percy? What if the person he became in Tartarus to survive comes out? What if he hurts other campers? What if he loses control? What if-

“Percy.” Annabeth kneels in front of him. His body having somehow found itself laying on the ground. “What is it?”

“I’m dangerous.”

Annabeth doesn’t bother denying the statement instead gripping his hands a bit tighter at the confession. 

Percy wonders if there will ever be a moment where he and Annabeth will be normal again. If he’ll be able to walk past another human being without feeling the slight drumming of blood calling out to him. He hears it now sitting next to Annabeth. The flow of her heart soothing him. He knows he’ll be able to pick out her heart from anywhere in the world. He will never be able to forget the symphony that is Annabeth’s blood. 

“Are you afraid of me?” Annabeth takes a moment to think it through. He can see her eyes focus somewhere past his shoulder as she processes his question.

“Yes,” she says, her grey eyes settling on green. He’s not shocked at the response but the sting of hurt makes him flinch all the same. “But I’m also afraid of me and I know you’re afraid of me too.”

Percy takes a moment to think of her response and she’s right. While he’s sure Annabeth can’t count the amount of times she’s been afraid Percy can count the amount of times he’s been afraid and realizes, just like she probably had, that Percy was scared of her. 

He frowns digesting this new reality. It seems impossible for him to fear Annabeth. _Annabeth_. His friend, girlfriend, partner-in more ways than one- and person no words could completely properly describe. Annabeth means more to him than his life. He would do anything for her and trusts her fully with his life but that doesn’t erase the fact that Annabeth scares him. 

He’ll see her sometimes in the heat of battle, in the command room standing over plans and there’s a certain shift. Something Percy has come to perceive only after knowing her for years that freezes his blood. It’s the look of a predator. A cold glint in the greys of her eyes that tells Percy Annabeth is _powerful_ . He never doubted his girlfriend but moments like this Percy is glad Annabeth is his friend and not his enemy. _Annabeth is a murderer_.

He’s not completely sure what that makes him. Annabeth is ice and control. The cold glint of a blade pressing against the skin. But Percy is water, uncontrollable, shifting, never sitting still. He can’t properly gather the words to classify himself but Annabeth’s meaning becomes clear.

“I would follow you anywhere Percy Jackson.”

He gulps, “me too.”

She gives him a genuine smile now. It’s soft and broken but real all the same.

Percy thinks this might have been the start. 

Annabeth is soft and pliant next to him as they hug and when Percy breathes her in, he thinks of Tartarus. 

_Percy dreams of a river, where water, mist and fire meet. They greet each other with a hiss and scream and yet still meet._

_He dreams of silver eyes and white hair._

_He sees red skin and feels fire in the air._

_He moves his fingers and the poison listens._

_Percy dreams of the ledge he let go._

Time blinks past him and he’s not even aware of how much Frank’s words have hit him until they do. Days at camp don't get any easier, and the weight he carries drags him down. He keeps to himself in the mornings, only seeking out Annabeth’s company if necessary but the nights are harsh. He can’t sleep, and the few times he manages to close his eyes, he finds himself back in that place. With a purple sky and red blood clouds. He wakes with the feeling of acid on his skin and pain digging into his bones but when he gasps himself awake, he finds that the sensation lingers and nothing is able to calm him down. 

Not everyone knows what had happened during their quest but rumors fill the camp. The scars from Tartarus stand sharply against his grey tinted skin. They make the younger campers jerk in surprise and the older ones look away. There are things best left unsaid but Percy doesn’t miss the looks directed towards him.

_Blind_ , they say.

He knows what they mean. The sharp line that travels from his forehead, past his left eye and towards his jaw is hard to ignore. It’s reminiscent of another scar he remembers from long ago. It’s the scar that left him blinded in his left eye and seeing ghosts in the mirrors, but Percy still has his right eye. He can still take in their cautious looks and whispers but he doesn’t care.

Blind but not helpless.

Percy has done things the others can’t imagine. He has endured stuff no child should have to endure and he’d survived.

What does that say about him?

Percy loses count of the days. Time holds no concept to him anymore. He’ll wake up, only to look down at his feet and when he finally looks up, it’ll be night time. Seconds seem to move differently now that they’re back topside. It’s a concerning realization that he’s gotten used to the time on Tartarus. There was a certain drag and weight that came with each passing second that Percy is freed from now.

The shift is difficult and Percy realizes that maybe he and Annabeth had spent a much longer time in Tartarus than either of them realized.

It makes bile rise in his throat and tears blur his eyes. Percy just wants it to end. He doesn’t want to think of his time down there. He doesn’t want to see what he became down there. He doesn’t want to see the reminder etched on his skin. There are memories from the dark that linger behind his thoughts and a rock inside his gut Percy tries desperately to ignore. 

One day he knows he’ll be able to look at his scars and just see scars but not now. Not when each scar brings flashes of something he shouldn’t have survived. Not when the scars are from below. Somedays they’re easier to ignore but others he finds himself locked in his cabin for fear of the repercussions. 

What happens when he’s had enough? What happens when he loses his control?

Percy has always known there was darkness inside of him. He had tried so hard to be a good kid. He had worked so hard to show his mom that she had always been right but...Percy had survived Tartarus. He and Annabeth had survived but Percy refuses to believe he could be-

But he has. Percy has already become a monster because only monsters survived Tartarus and Percy has survived.

Nothing good ever left Tartarus and Percy wants to dig the answers he seeks into his skin so he’ll be reminded everyday of what he truly is. 

He looks in the mirror and there shattered pieces of himself that don’t fit. He carries his father’s sea-green eyes and Percy knows he’s half god. He carries Sally’s curls and Percy knows he’s half-mortal. There’s a streak of white amongst the black and Percy chooses Annabeth once again. But now there's a scar. The line starts at his forehead, past his eye and ends at his jaw, like Luke. It leaves his left eye milky and useless. Percy is powerful but caring. He’s strong but not un-killable. He is power contained in mortal flesh and his teeth clench so hard Percy worries they’ll shatter.

What does it mean?

What does it make him?

He is Perseus Jackson, hero of Olympus, son of Poseidon and the _destroyer._ He carries it in his blood. His father is Poseidon, god of the sea, storms, earthquakes, droughts, floods and horses. He is known as the Earthshaker, the Strombringer...the Father of Monsters. 

Percy looks at the collection of scars. He smells the ocean in the air. He tastes ambrosia on his tongue. He hears the sounds of Camp Half-blood. He feels the twitching of his hand and realizes, home doesn’t feel like home anymore.


	2. Names have Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does include the line "wrongly chosen, wrongly slain" from the Magnus Chase series but is not part of that. When referencing Rick Riordan's prophecies to create my own, I came across that line and had to have it for this series. That line will influence a lot of things in this story that will come into play later.

Time slides past her fingers.

_There are red clouds hanging in the purple sky._

The days become harder than the nights and Annabeth can’t stand the quiet during meal times. 

_The ground bubbles at her feet and a monster forms._

She knows she should be eating more. Knows this can’t possibly be healthy for her, but she swears she’ll start eating more soon, just...not today. 

_Blood rains down, the red droplets sliding past her lips._

She can’t quite stand meal times themselves to be honest so she stays quiet, shuffling a couple of bites before dumping the rest of her food.

_She gasps, lips blistered and skin peeling._

Today the day melts in her hands and drags her bones. Today she’ll close her eyes and hope to wake up in darkness where she won’t have to fake because the days are long but the nights offer relief. She doesn’t have to fake it at night and Annabeth longs for the dark. 

There are memories she needs to see. Things she needs to decipher.

_Blue eyes turn to gold._

“Annabeth!” Malcolm yells grinning. “Help me solve this debate.”

Annabeth wants to crawl back to her bed. She wants to hide in her cabin and never come back but instead she smiles and walks towards Malcolm. She can fake it for a little while.

_The water is cold but not as cold as the dread that grips her lungs._

She sees Nico in the corners where no one looks. He’s pale and gaunt, flinching at every sound and eyes haunted by what he’d seen. He doesn’t sleep but neither does she. 

_Darkness surrounds her from all sides and she falls._

The next time she sees him she brings him a piece of chocolate and they don’t talk. Some things are better left unsaid. Some thoughts are better left unvoiced.

_It’s no use, she wants to tell him but there are tears in Percy’s eyes. He’s hopeful and stupidly naïve because Annabeth knows she’s not coming back from this._

She spends her days locked in her cabin. Sheets of paper and sticky notes lay cluttered around her desk but it’s not enough. Nothing is enough and Annabeth isn’t making any headway and- 

_She slams the rock downwards, gold dust exploding upwards but when she looks everything turns black._

Wake up, eat, write, smile, talk, eat, smile, sleep, wake up, realize it’s just a nightmare and repeat. 

_She cries out against the pain. Her ankle burns as the spider silk pulls against it, a burning pressure she can’t escape._

She tries to focus on-

_She cries and screams clutching at her right arm and where a limb should extend, just above where her right elbow should be, there’s air and blood._

It doesn’t wor-

_She pulls her dagger and it comes away with blood._

Percy deserves-

_Luke’s smile is wicked as he stretches his hand._

It can’t-

_She sucks in a sharp breath, ribs twinging in response._

She-

_Tartarus is the land without gods because something else already lived inside it._

“Annabeth,” Chiron says in a tone of voice that lets her know this had not been the first time he had called her name. 

“Hmm,” she hums looking at the field in disinterest. 

There has to be a hidden message Annabeth is missing. Change doesn’t happen out of nowhere, it is gradual and unseen and maybe changes have already started happening but Annabeth has a feeling this goes deeper than she knows.

She’s huddled in one of the porch chairs, Chiron in his wheelchair beside her. She’s not sure what day it is. She’d lost count somewhere between the day they won and the day she reached her cabin.

“I’m worried,” he confesses.

She wonders where Percy is today. She’s not blind to the way he avoids the sea. Percy had done the impossible in Tartarus and that’s not something you can come back from. Was that the meaning of the warning?

“-I see it you know. The food, the sleep, the exhaustion and focus. I just want you to know that you have me. Both of you can come to me if you need help-”

Percy had been a child when he blew up Mt. St. Helen and caused an earthquake. He had been on the eve of adulthood when he controlled the liquids of Tartarus. 

_What else?_ Her mind whispers.

She’s always known about fate and prophecies. Things weren’t always what they seemed in the land of the gods and Annabeth knows that. She _knows_ that except-names have power. 

_Perseus._

“To destroy.”

“Annabeth?” Chiron questions. 

Percy had already defied his nature twice. 

_Olympus to preserve or raze._

_To storm or fire the world must fall._

What does that mean? What does it change?

 _Wrongly chosen, Wrongly slain_.

The words are nothing but a whisper across her mind and yet they feel like a scream.

Her fingers ghost the top of where her real arm ends. 

“Annabeth?”

Annabeth is the daughter of Athena. A child of wisdom and strategy but for this she has none. There are broken images scattered around her but the pieces don’t seem to fit. 

_Wrongly chosen, Wrongly slain_.

There is something she’s missing. Annabeth has the pieces of a puzzle but no guide. Something has been building since before her and Percy, and Annabeth knows it deep inside her, that Percy will be the culmination. He has been the missing piece to a bigger picture Annabeth doesn’t have the colors to. 

Percy has always been powerful but Annabeth knows they’ve barely scratched the surface to his gifts. Percy is passion and loyalty and despite being wild, there’s a tight control Percy keeps over himself that Annabeth worries will break.

What happens when Percy stops being Percy?

 _Wrongly chosen, Wrongly slain_.

She doesn’t bother waiting for Chiron’s approval before she’s walking out of camp. Annabeth isn’t sure what she’s doing or hoping to achieve but it feels imperative that she receive this blessing. 

She needs forgiveness for the sins she has committed and the many more she knows she will commit because it would all be done in the name of a boy she loves but who is not the world. Percy is the reason she lives but he is also destruction and pain, and before Annabeth releases that upon innocents she needs to make sure she’s right in the choices she will make.

She chews on her nails, mind spinning with the possibilities as Sally moves around the kitchen. Her black shirt is stretched tight over her round stomach and a voice inside her tells her Sally is six months along. 

She doesn’t remember much of their first visit to see Sally. Percy had asked her to accompany him, afraid of his mom’s reaction to his disappearance and his eye. Annabeth had accepted and Percy had been correct because it had taken just a glance before Sally had burst into hysterics needing them two and Paul to calm her. 

Percy hadn’t even been able to process the pregnancy and what followed next was a mix of crying and _I’m sorry_ , from both mother and son. Annabeth had stood awkwardly to the side until finally all eyes had turned towards her missing arm.

She shouldn’t have worried because Sally had taken one look at her and just smiled and treated Annabeth like nothing had changed. The act had brought tears to her eyes because Annabeth had not felt normal since the fall.

But now, she sits in Sally’s kitchen, watching the woman bake some cookies and worries over the older woman’s reaction. It’s not her place to tell Sally what her son had gone through but she seeks the forgiveness of his mother because only she knows what will come next. 

“I didn’t lose it in a monster attack.”

Sally stops in her baking, and Annabeth worries what she will do but it only takes a couple of breaths before Sally continues. She’s thankful for the action. She’s not sure how much of the story she would be able to get out if Sally had been looking at her. 

“Everyone thinks that’s how it happened but the truth is...the truth is I made a deal.” She draws patterns on the countertop thinking of the choice that seems to have changed her life. She doesn’t regret it. Despite everyone’s reaction Annabeth will never regret the circumstance that led to the loss of her limb.

“When we were on the quest I came across someone and he showed me things. Things that had to do with Percy.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles awkwardly. 

She’s not a stranger to blood and death. The feeling follows her everyday but there’s something different in the words she wants to say today. 

“Sally.” The older woman stops before turning to face her. Perhaps she heard the hitch in her tone. Perhaps she understood this needed to be addressed, but no matter the reason Annabeth looks into her eyes and asks the question. “What would you do to make sure Percy was safe?”

Sally doesn’t give her a lecture nor try to pry answers out of her and for that she appreciates the woman even more. 

“Everything and anything.”

The words catch in her lungs. “Anything?”

Sally gifts her a soft smile, her hand coming to cup Annabeth’s cheek and the gesture burns its way into her chest. Nobody except Percy had touched her in so long. 

She remembers the afternoons spent in this kitchen waiting for news of Percy after he had gone missing. She remembers the nights crying and bags underneath their eyes as they exhausted all their resources in looking for the dark haired boy.

“Whatever you have to do to keep him safe won’t change who you are to me Annabeth. Whatever you think you need to do, you don’t need my permission to do so.”

“Perseus means to destroy,” she explains and Sally’s eyes tighten.

“I know.”

_Sea green eyes stare into her grey, white streak amidst a mass of black._

“I knew.”

Annabeth dreams of a wet cavern and it feels like the end.

Annabeth leads the Athena cabin. Her position had been temporarily filled by Malcom during her absence, and she wonders why he didn’t just keep it. 

It’s no secret her siblings are uncomfortable with her presence. Annabeth had once been the model sibling. Favored by her mother and envied by her siblings. Despite her cordial relationship with her siblings, she had never been the best at making friends, and Annabeth knows she was not popular amongst them. However, despite her mostly business relationship with the other children of Athena, there had been respect and even a bit of fear in the eyes of her siblings when they looked at her. Now they see nothing past the loss of her limb and scars.

It’s not a surprise. Annabeth had been heading in steady decline, long before she had fallen into the pit. Sleepless nights after Percy’s disappearance had been proof of that. Her siblings had been sympathetic back then, but now they smother her in their pity

Who told them Annabeth Chase was a victim? Who told them she had been beaten?

Annabeth had suffered. Probably more than any recent born demigod had, but she was not done. Yes, she had broken. She feels the cracks beneath her skin. Can feel the little burst of air as they slip through and the jagged edges as they tear across her skin. She is broken shards held together by sheer willpower, and she won’t let anyone dismiss that.

Her siblings choose to see the scars and the broken pieces of herself, without realizing there is more. Annabeth’s eyes are cold. They had never been the warmest orbs to begin with, but there is something chilling in them now. She sees them staring back at her in the mirrors, and feels something twinging in her chest. 

Annabeth is not the first demigod to have fallen into Tartarus, but she is the second, and there are things not even the child of a god should be able to survive. 

“Eat,” she tells Percy, taking a seat next to him. No one bothers them, not even Chiron and Mr. D who play ignorant to Annabeth’s disregard of the rules. She should be sitting beside Malcolm at Athena’s table, but Annabeth sits with Percy instead.

Food tastes bland now. Everything she consumes turning to ash inside her mouth. It seems only ambrosia brings her any pleasure these days. She forces herself to swallow the mouthful of food.

Chiron had been strict with his rules. If she and Percy did not show signs of improvement he would begin taking drastic measures, and Annabeth has no desire to see what they might be.

Percy looks almost catatonic as he sits beside her. It seems the only times Percy is alive is when he’s fighting or coming out of a nightmare. Annabeth can’t remember the last time they talked. She can’t remember the last time she held his hand.

His hands shake, but Percy takes a bite of the food, nose wrinkling in disgust. They’re eating pizza. Something that would have made them cry in joy and relief when they had first fallen into Tartarus, but now taste empty and bland.

“I’m here,” she tells him.

Percy sighs, a hand coming up to rub his eyes. “I know beth.”

“No Percy.” Annabeth shakes her head. “I’m saying I’m here. I have your back.”

Percy turns his head, his one clear eye full of confusion. There are words Annabeth wants to say. Things she could voice out loud but knows she shouldn’t.

“Whatever you have to do, whatever you need to do, I’m here Percy. I’ll take care of it.”

There’s a heaviness inside Annabeth, like something dragging itself across her veins. Percy’s breath hitches but he doesn’t acknowledge her words. She thinks maybe he hasn’t reached that point yet, but Annabeth knows it’s futile. 

There’s no going back to what they once were. The old Annabeth and Percy are gone. They died when they fell into Tartarus and disappeared somewhere along the choices they had to make. 

She’s not fully sure what to do with parts and pieces of herself that remain except to use them as shield. Annabeth thinks that Percy believes Tartarus has turned him into a monster when it’s wrong. Percy has always been a hero and he would always care for others, but Annabeth hadn’t turned into a monster. Tartarus hadn’t been able to change the core parts of herself, and she thinks maybe that’s worse because turning into a monster hinges on a transformation while Annabeth drowns in the knowledge that she had been a monster all along. 

The sun sets over the horizon, painting the sky purple, orange and pink. She breathes in the scent of the strawberry fields, of sweat, leather, metal and blood and thinks of a place far from camp. 

Words have meaning. 

She had learned that long before coming to camp, and her time here had only cemented that.

Names are powerful.

They carry the scraps of a person they will become. They are imbued with the power of the beings that carry them. 

Perseus means to _destroy_ , and Annabeth wonders when her name stopped meaning _favored of God_.


End file.
